


Labyrinth

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, M/M, Magic, Minotaur - Freeform, Monsters, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Receiving his payment for a freelance job for a practitioner of the arcane arts, Sniper finds himself able to add another monstrous notch to his belt, in the form of the old witch’s labyrinth keeper, a creature of legend singularly suited for such a task: a minotaur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Labyrinth

“So this should be the full amount, then,” the old witch mumbled, thumbing through a thick wad of bills.”

“Beautiful,” Sniper replied, holding his hand out to accept the money with a pleasant smile. The job had been simple, a quick assassination of a former mage's apprentice who had grown far too self-important for her mistress. His client, Hedrada, had tucked herself away in a smallish castle in the mountains, a back access route she kept secret allowed him entry to her lair. She was a small thing, a gnarled old woman with short, curly, blue-white hair and a crawling, swirling array of tattoos up her left side, any exposed skin cast in bright, intricate patterns. Her dark purple robes hung on her heavily, making the small woman seem even more miniscule, nearly drowning in the thick fabric. Leaning on a well-worn cane carved in the shape of a large serpent, she would've presented a ludicrous visage, were it not for the enormous eldritch library they stood in, containing all sorts of magical tchochkes ebbing with power. She was clearly a woman of knowledge and potency. “Still surprised you needed to hire a bloke like me though. Begging your pardon, Miss Hedrada. Seems like you could just cast a spell an' take 'er out from 'ere.”

“You'd think that,” she laughed, her voice wavering and high, sitting at the top of her soft palate. “But she had woven wards I had personally taught her. She knew exactly what she was dealing with, magically. I'm sure she didn't expect that bullet through her pretty little skull, the daft wench. If there's one thing I hate, it's a know-it-all, Mr. Mundy.”

“I can sympathize,” Sniper responded with a smile.

“You do good work, Mr. Mundy. Professional. I like that in a hired hand. Would you be interested in future work, should I have the need arise? I don't like to dirty my hands, you see. I'd rather experiment and research, not battle and evoke. I'm far too old for such nonsense.”

“I'd be glad to, should the funds remain available,” came the reply, the gunman carefully sidestepping the mention of the old witch's extremely advanced age.

“Then expect more business in the future. Is there anything else I can provide you? A reward and incentive?”

“Oh, I couldn't--”  
“I insist! Do you know how difficult it is to get a good assassin in a place like this? In a line of academia like my own? I spoil those who work for me, Mr. Mundy. And you work for me. Consider yourself eligible for special treatment. What do you desire? I can provide.”

An array of avaricious thoughts sped through Sniper's mind in quick succession, the gunman stroking his chin as he pondered. He remembered a rumour he'd heard about the witch when he'd first been contacted for the job. It was worth asking. “I hear tell you've got a labyrinth in this mountain, round the front entrance. Is 'at true?”

The old witch raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering what his angle was. “That I do. Sometimes fools from the village wander up here thinking they can do away with me or some such rubbish. They never make it through the maze.”

“Any chance you employ the typical guardian for such a structure?”

“Aye, his name is Keltoor, and he's a loyal employee. A bit of a dunce, but no more so than the rest of his people. His rates are rock bottom. Doesn't realize how much he could be charging me.”

“Any chance we can arrange a meeting?”

 

*

 

Sniper grasped at the stone altar, inscribed with warnings to travelers that would stray deeper into the labyrinth, his body bent over the enormous tablet. Hot flesh rubbed against cold stone, making his hairs stand on end, prickling gooseflesh up and down his arms. His forehead bent down to touch it, his body shaking back and forth with the force of the invasion he was enduring.

Behind him, immense, firm hands grasped his hips, strong arms clad in thick, wiry brown fur tugging at him, dragging him back over and over, impaling him on a thick, long cock. The minotaur roared its pleasure, hunched forward over the shuddering assassin, deep inside him, filling him with reckless abandon. Fierce, rough thrusts met Sniper with a slam of hips, no slap to echo as flesh met fur.

Sniper's eyes rolled back, his mouth hanging open, spit dripping to the stone edifice that served as his lifeline. He clung to it desperately, his legs jelly beneath the onslaught of the beast within him. Elation washed over Sniper, a deep, visceral desire realized, another notch on his bedpost. His body quivered, a rag doll in the grip of the great minotaur, being used for Keltoor's pleasure, and for his own. One arm sliding down the altar, he snuck it beneath himself, wrapping one hand around his cock as he strained against the beast, his ass eager to take everything he could give, to be as full as the minotaur could possibly make him. He was stretched so wide, but it felt so good, jolts of ecstasy rocking through his abdomen with each thrust, crashing against the tide rising with each stroke of his hand.

Keltoor grunted, snarled, growled, animalistic sounds intermingled with curses spoken in thick, rumbling Greek. Pulling the thin Australian's hips, he snapped his hips to match, burying himself fully inside him with each pass, reveling in the insane tightness, the immense heat inside the gunman. He snorted, breaths puffing out quickly, rising up to that precipice, testing how long he could slow his ascent.

Mouth agape, ignoble sounds rattling out of him somewhere between needful whines and moronic braying, Sniper was lost in a sea of sensation, his body consumed by the slithering, consuming elation thrumming through his every cell. He reveled in the sounds the beast made behind him, monstrous and inhuman, driving him onward, upward. His hand flew across his cock, tugging like it was keeping him alive. It might just be. He felt like he could die, like he could release his soul and transcend skin and bone. He was bliss incarnate, given form in sweaty, shivering flesh.

Pounding him, hammering deep into him with unending zeal, the minotaur's grip tightened. He was approaching his finish, and couldn't hold out much longer. Sniper flopped around on the altar, bereft of thought and sense, taking all he was giving and needing more, always more. With a snort, a snarl, a crash of flesh into flesh, of skin against fur, the great beast let out a mighty, lowing roar, his fingers digging into Sniper's hips hard enough to leave conspicuous bruises. He buried himself inside of the slim gunman, his cock throbbing as he filled him with his seed, a great tide that made the Australian shudder from the pressure inside him. Sniper clenched his teeth, shuddering, convulsing as his body gave out, his bones crumbling to dust, his mind a bubbling slurry sloshing in his head. He spilled over his hand, onto the altar, thick, hot semen coating his hand as he shook. He fell limp, useless, and spent onto the stone, the minotaur sliding out of him slowly, pushing him onto the altar now that he no longer cared to support him. Dimly, Sniper felt wet heat on his thighs, semen leaking out of his well-stretched hole.

Stepping back, the minotaur grabbed Sniper's discarded undershirt and used it to wipe himself off as he softened, tossing it at the exhausted assassin when he was finished. He nodded at the product of his efforts, the slim man shaking, wobbling, unable to stand. Sniper lay panting, hunched over the altar, a complete wreck, dripping with come and coated in sweat. His face was bright red, and his ass was in a similar state, ten round bruises already formed along the sides of his hips. “This going to be a normal part of your payment? I'd like another go sometime.”

Sniper chuckled breathlessly, “I had it written into me bloody contract.”


End file.
